Dark Benediction

by Walter Michael Miller

  “Circle around it once,” he ordered.

  “You can’t get in. They’ll kill you.”

  He doubted it. No one ever tried to enter, except the priests who carried small animals down as sacrifices to the great Sleeper. Since no outsider ever dared go near the shaft, the guards expected no one. He doubted that they would be alert.

  The cloister was a hollow square with a small stone tower rising in the center of the courtyard. The tower contained the entrance to the shaft. In the dim light of Phobos, assisted by yellow flickers from the cloister windows, he peered at the courtyard as they circled closer. It seemed to be empty.

  “Land beside the tower!” he ordered.

  “Asir—please—”

  “Do it!”

  The huffen plunged rapidly, soared across the outer walls, and burst into the courtyard. It landed with a rough jolt and began squeaking plaintively.

  “Hurry!” he hissed. “Get your straps off and let’s go.”

  “I’m not going.”

  A prick of the knife point changed her mind. They slid quickly to the ground, and Asir kicked the huffen in the flanks. The beast sucked in air and burst aloft.

  Startled faces were trying to peer through the lighted cloister windows into the courtyard. Someone cried a challenge. Asir darted to the door of the tower and dragged it open. Now forced to share the danger, the girl came with him without urging. They stepped into a stair-landing. A candle flickered from a wall bracket. A guard, sitting on the floor beneath the candle glanced up in complete surprise. Then he reached for a short barbed pike. Asir kicked him hard in the temple, then rolled his limp from outside. Men with torches were running across the courtyard. He slammed the heavy metal door and bolted it.

  Fists began beating on the door. They paused for a moment to rest, and Mara stared at him in fright. He expected her to burst into angry speech, but she only leaned against the wall and panted. The dark mouth of the stairway yawned at them—a stone throat that led into the bowels of Mars and the realm of the monster, Big Joe. He glanced at Mara thoughtfully, and felt sorry for her.

  “I can leave you here,” he offered, “but I’ll have to tie you.”

  She moistened her lips, glanced first at the stairs, then at the door where the guards were raising a frantic howl. She shook her head.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “The priests won’t bother you, if they see that you were a prisoner.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  He was pleased, but angry with himself for the pleasure. An arrogant, spiteful, conniving wench, he told himself. She’d lied about Tokra. He grunted gruffly, seized the candle, and started down the stairs. When she started after him, he stiffened and glanced back, remembering the barbed pike.

  As he had suspected, she had picked it up. The point was a foot from the small of his back. They stared at each other, and she wore her self-assured smirk.

  “Here,” she said, and handed it casually. “You might need this.”

  They stared at each other again, but it was different this time. Bewildered, he shook his head and resumed the descent toward the vaults. The guards were battering at the doors behind them.

  The stairwell was damp and cold. Blackness folded about them like a shroud. They moved in silence, and after five thousand steps, Ash stopped counting.

  Somewhere in the depths, Big Joe slept his restless sleep. Asir wondered grimly how long it would take the guards to tear down the metal door. Somehow they had to get past Big Joe before the guards came thundering after them. There was a way to get around the monster: of that he was certain. A series of twenty-four numbers was involved, and he had memorized them with a stolen bit of ritual. How to use them was a different matter. He imagined vaguely that one must call them out in a loud voice before the inner entrance.

  The girl walked beside him now, and he could feel her shivering. His eyes were quick and nervous as he scanned each pool of darkness, each nook and cranny along the stairway wall. The well was silent except for the mutter of their footsteps, and the gloom was full of musty odors. The candle afforded little light.

  “I told you the truth about Tokra,” she blurted suddenly.

  Asir glowered straight ahead and said nothing, embarrassed by his previous jealousy. They moved on in silence.

  Suddenly she stopped. “Look,” she hissed, pointing down ahead.

  He shielded the candle with his hand and peered downward toward a small square of dim light. “The bottom of the stairs,” he muttered.

  The light seemed faint and diffuse—with a slight greenish cast. Asir blew out the candle, and the girl quickly protested.

  “How will we see to climb again?”

  He laughed humorlessly. “What makes you think we will?”

  She moaned and clutched at his arm, but came with him as he descended slowly toward the light. The stairway opened into a long corridor whose ceiling was faintly luminous. White-faced and frightened, they paused on the bottom step and looked down the corridor. Mara gasped and covered her eyes.

  “Big Joe!” she whispered in awe.

  He stared through the stairwell door and down the corridor through another door into a large room. Big Joe sat in the center of the room, sleeping his sleep of ages amid a heap of broken and whitening bones. A creature of metal, twice the height of Asir, he had obviously been designed to kill. Tri-fingered hands with gleaming talons, and a monstrous head shaped like a Marswolf, with long silver fangs. Why should a metal-creature have fangs, unless he had been built to kill?

  The behemoth slept in a crouch, waiting for the intruders.

  He tugged the girl through the stairwell door. A voice droned out of nowhere: “If you have come to plunder, go back!”

  He stiffened, looking around. The girl whimpered.

  “Stay here by the stairs,” he told her, and pushed her firmly back through the door.

  Asir started slowly toward the room where Big Joe waited. Beyond the room he could see another door, and the monster’s job was apparently to keep intruders back from the inner vaults where, according to the ritual chants, the Blaze of the Winds could be kindled.

  Halfway along the corridor, the voice called out again, beginning a kind of sing-song chant: “Big Joe will kill you, Big Joe will kill you, Big Joe will kill you—”

  He turned slowly, searching for the speaker. But the voice seemed to come from a black disk on the wall. The talking-machines perhaps, as mentioned somewhere in the ritual.

  A few paces from the entrance to the room, the voice fell silent. He stopped at the door, staring in at the monster. Then he took a deep breath and began chanting the twenty-four numbers in a loud but quavering voice. Big Joe remained in his motionless crouch. Nothing happened. He stepped through the doorway.

  Big Joe emitted a deafening roar, straightened with a metallic groan, and lumbered toward him, taloned hands extended and eyes blazing furiously. Asir shrieked and ran for his life.

  Then he saw Mara lying sprawled in the stairway entrance. She had fainted. Blocking an impulse to leap over her and flee alone, he stopped to lift her.

  But suddenly he realized that there was no pursuit. He looked back. Big Joe had returned to his former position, and he appeared to be asleep again. Puzzled, Asir stepped back into the corridor.

  “If you have come to plunder, go back!”

  He moved gingerly ahead again.

  “Big Joe will kill you, Big Joe will kill you, Big Joe will kill—”

  He recovered the barbed pike from the floor and stole into the zone of silence. This time he stopped to look around. Slowly he reached the pike-staff through the doorway. Nothing happened. He stepped closer and waved it around inside. Big Joe remained motionless.

  Then be dropped the point of the pike to the floor. The monster bellowed and started to rise. Asir leaped back, scalp crawling. But Big Joe settled back in his crouch.

  Fighting a desire to flee, Asir reached the pike through the door and rapped it on the floor again
. This time nothing happened. He glanced down. The pike’s point rested in the center of a gray floor-tile, just to the left of the entrance. The floor was a checkerboard pattern of gray and white. He tapped another gray square, and this time the monster started out of his drowse again.

  After a moment’s thought, he began touching each tile within reach of the door. Most of them brought a response from Big Joe. He found four that did not. He knelt down before the door to peer at them closely. The first was unmarked. The second bore a dot in the center. The third bore two, and the fourth three—in order of their distance from the door.

  He stood up and stepped inside again, standing on the first tile. Big Joe remained motionless. He stepped diagonally left to the second—straight ahead to the third—then diagonally right to the fourth. He stood there for a moment, trembling and staring at the Sleeper. He was four feet past the door!

  Having assured himself that the monster was still asleep, he crouched to peer at the next tiles. He stared for a long time, but found no similar markings. Were the dots coincidence?

  He reached out with the pike, then drew it back. He was too close to the Sleeper to risk a mistake. He stood up and looked around carefully, noting each detail of the room—and of the floor in particular. He counted the rows and columns of tiles—twenty-four each way.

  Twenty-four—and there were twenty-four numbers in the series that was somehow connected with safe passage through the room. He frowned and muttered through the series to himself 0, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 2, 2, 1…

  The first four numbers—0, 1, 2, 3. And the tiles—the first with no dots, the second with one, the third with two, the fourth with three. But the four tiles were not in a straight line, and there were no marked ones beyond the fourth. He backed out of the room and studied them from the end of the corridor again.

  Mara had come dizzily awake and was calling for him weakly. He replied reassuringly and turned to his task again. “First tile, then diagonally left, then straight, then diagonally right—”

  0, 1, 2, 3, 3.

  A hunch came. He advanced as far as the second tile, then reached as far ahead as he could and touched the square diagonally right from the fourth one. Big Joe remained motionless but began to speak. His scalp bristled at the growling voice.

  “If the intruder makes an error, Big Joe will kill.”

  Standing tense, ready to leap back to the corridor, he touched the square again. The motionless behemoth repeated the grim warning.

  Asir tried to reach the square diagonally right from the fifth, but could not without stepping up to the third. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up and extended the pike cautiously, keeping his eyes on Big Joe. The pike rapped the floor.

  “If the intruder makes an error, Big Joe will kill.” But the huge figure remained in his place.

  Starting from the first square, the path went left, straight, right, right, right. And after zero, the numbers went 1, 2, 3, 3, 3. Apparently he had found the key. One meant a square to the southeast; two meant south; and three southwest. Shivering, he moved up to the fifth square upon which the monster growled his first warning. He looked back at the door, then at Big Joe. The taloned hands could grab him before he could dive back into the corridor.

  He hesitated. He could either turn back now, or gamble his life on the accuracy of the tentative belief. The girl was calling to him again.

  “Come to the end of the corridor!” he replied.

  She came hurriedly, to his surprise.

  “No!” he bellowed. “Stay back of the entrance! Not on the tile! No!”

  Slowly she withdrew the foot that hung poised over a trigger-tile.

  “You can’t come in unless you know how,” he gasped. She blinked at him and glanced nervously back over her shoulder. “But I hear them. They’re coming down the stairs.”

  Asir cursed softly. Now he had to go ahead.

  “Wait just a minute,” he said. “Then I’ll show you how to come through.”

  He advanced to the last tile that he had tested and stopped. The next two numbers were two—for straight ahead. And they would take him within easy reach of the long taloned arms of the murderous sentinel. He glanced around in fright at the crushed bones scattered across the floor. Some were human. Others were animal-sacrifices tossed in by the priests.

  He had tested only one two—back near the door. If he made a mistake, he would never escape; no need bothering with the pike.

  He stepped to the next tile and closed his eyes.

  “If the intruder makes an error, Big Joe will kill.”

  He opened his eyes again and heaved a breath of relief.

  “Asir! They’re getting closer! I can hear them!”

  He listened for a moment. A faint murmur of angry voices in the distance. “All right,” he said calmly. “Step only on the tiles I tell you. See the gray one at the left of the door?”

  She pointed. “This one?”

  “Yes, step on it.”

  The girl moved up and stared fearfully at the monstrous sentinel. He guided her up toward him. “Diagonally left—one ahead—diagonally right. Now don’t be frightened when he speaks—”

  The girl came on until she stood one square behind him. Her quick frightened breathing blended with the growing sounds of shouting from the stairway. He glanced up at Big Joe, noticing for the first time that the steel jaws were stained with a red-brown crust. He shuddered.

  The grim chess-game continued a cautious step at a time, with the girl following one square behind him. What if she fainted again? And fell across a triggered tile? They passed within a foot of Big Joe’s arm.

  Looking up, he saw the monster’s eyes move—following them, scrutinizing them as they passed. He froze. “We want no plunder,” he said to the machine. The gaze was steady and unwinking.

  “The air is leaking away from the world.”

  The monster remained silent.

  “Hurry!” whimpered the girl. Their pursuers were gaining rapidly and they had crossed only half the distance to the opposing doorway. Progress was slower now, for Asir needed occasionally to repeat through the whole series of numbers, looking back to count squares and make certain that the next step was not a fatal one.

  “They won’t dare to come in after us,” he said hopefully.

  “And if they do?”

  “If the intruder makes an error, Big Joe will kill,” announced the machine as Asir took another step.

  “Eight squares to go!” he muttered, and stopped to count again.

  “Asir! They’re in the corridor!”

  Hearing the tumble of voices, he looked back to see blue-robed men spilling out of the stairway and milling down the corridor toward the room. But halfway down the hall, the priests paused—seeing the unbelievable: two intruders walking safely past their devil-god. They growled excitedly among themselves. Asir took another step. Again the machine voiced the monotonous warning.

  “If the intruder makes an error…”

  Hearing their deity speak, the priests of Big Joe babbled wildly and withdrew a little. But one, more impulsive than the rest, began shrieking.

  “Kill the intruders! Cut them down with your spears!”

  Asir glanced back to see two of them racing toward the room, lances cocked for the throw. If a spear struck a triger-tile—

  “Stop!” he bellowed, facing around.

  The two priests paused. Wondering if it would result in his sudden death, he rested a hand lightly against the huge steel arm of the robot, then leaned against it. The huge eyes were staring down at him, but Big Joe did not move.

  The spearmen stood frozen, gaping at the thief’s familiarity with the horrendous hulk. Then, slowly they backed away.

  Continuing his bluff, he looked up at Big Joe and spoke in a loud voice. “If they throw their spears or try to enter, kill them.”

  He turned his back on the throng in the hall and continued the cautious advance. Five to go, four, three, two—

  He paused to stare into the room b
eyond. Gleaming machinery—all silent—and great panels, covered with a multitude of white circles and dials. His heart sank. If here lay the magic that controlled the Blaze of the Great Wind, he could never hope to rekindle it.

  He stepped through the doorway, and the girl followed. Immediately the robot spoke like low thunder.

  “The identity of the two technologists is recognized. Hereafter they may pass with impunity. Big Joe is charged to ask the following: why do the technologists come, when it is not yet time?”

  Staring back, Asir saw that the robot’s head had turned so that he was looking directly back at the thief and the girl. Asir also saw that someone had approached the door again. Not priests, but townspeople.

  He stared, recognizing the Chief Commoner, and the girl’s father Welkir, three other Senior Kinsmen, and—Slubil, the executioner who had nailed him to the post.

  “Father! Stay back.”

  Welkir remained silentt, glaring at them. He turned and whispered to the Chief Commoner. The Chief Commoner whispered to Slubil. The executioner nodded grimly and took a short-axe from his belt thong. He stepped through the entrance, his left foot striking the zero-tile. He peered at Big Joe and saw that the monster remained motionless. He grinned at the ones behind him, then snarled in Asir’s direction.

  “Your sentence has been changed, thief.”

  “Don’t try to cross, Slubil!” Asir barked.

  Slubil spat, brandished the axe, and stalked forward. Big Joe came up like a resurrection of fury, and his elbow was explosive in the vaults. Slubil froze, then stupidly drew back his axe.

  Asir gasped as the talons closed. He turned away quickly. Slubil’s scream was cut off abruptly by a ripping sound, then a series of dull cracks and snaps. The girl shrieked and closed her eyes. There were two distinct thuds as Big Joe tossed Slubil aside.

  The priests and the townspeople—all except Welkirhad fled from the corridor and up the stairway. Welkir was on his knees, his hands covering his face.